


Rest

by whitenoiseghost



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Historical Accuracy, Companionable Snark, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Malik Tops Altair, Mentions of Hetero Relationship, WAFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitenoiseghost/pseuds/whitenoiseghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is cold in Masyaf fortress at night, especially in the winter and early spring and Maria has sent Malik something to help dispel the chill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest

**Author's Note:**

> This is not new. Just re-posted for this archive. I'm only saving my best works here so enjoy please!
> 
> I followed a historic model of segmented sleep which was the way most people took rest in pre-industrial times.

  
The fortress at Masyaf was constantly active, even at night. The guard had to be changed and the fires needed tending. Messengers arrived at all hours and they and their horses had to be boarded and fed regardless of the time. Malik was used to bathing and then resting for an hour or two after dusk, arising around midnight to read and preform tasks which had not been completed during the day. He would mark an hour on the water clock and if he was still not tired when it had elapsed he would mark another, after which he would return to bed until sunrise. It was the way of most people, to do this.  
  
Most nights he spent filling in the ledgers and correcting old maps in solitude but sometimes he would entertain a guest…  
  
He was already awake and lighting his lamps when Altaïr slipped silently into the room wearing only his breeches and a gray tunic, hair damp and curling about his face and neck. He nodded a greeting and closed the door behind him as Malik blew gently onto the thin reed between his fingertips. It flared brightly and he touched it to another oil-soaked wick which blazed to life.  
  
“Stoke the fire, would you?”  
  
Altaïr nodded again and moved to the brazier, taking up the hooked iron rod and stirring the embers. He added another stave of split, dry timber and an handful of fragrant herbs and flower petals from a dish on the hearth, then straightened up and moved quickly to the deep pile of well-stuffed cushions that Malik had only recently lain upon, dropping immediately to burrow amongst the woven wool blankets and bright linen-covered pillows, still warm from Malik’s body heat.  
  
“Does she know you are here?” Malik turned as a muffled affirmative sounded from amidst the cushions, followed by a prolonged rustling, then the tunic and breeches were ejected. The bare arm which had flung them beckoned to Malik before retreating back under the bedding.  
  
“Put that out and come back in here…” The cushion pile mumbled and Malik huffed, amused. He snubbed the smoldering reed out in a dish of sand, shivering as the chill from the air and from the stone floor seeped into his bones. Malik resolved to obtain more wool rugs and tapestries for his rooms. It was still early spring and although the weather was warm when the sun was up, at night the temperature plummeted and even when shuttered there was a constant draft around the window.  
  
“She forced me from my study saying I needed rest… and then took my robe and hood away while I was bathing… and my boots…” The mound of bedding muttered sullenly. “She marched me here personally.” Words trailed off to unintelligible muttering and cursing and the one armed Master laughed aloud.  
  
“She pushed you in here instead of taking you back to your own rooms? Have her affections for you finally dwindled to the point where she seeks to foist you off on  _me_  rather than bed you herself?” Malik shrugged his robe off and hung it over a chair, laughing as Altaïr poked his head up out of the blankets and mock-glared at him.  
  
“You know her better than that, Malik.” The Grand Master smirked then and Malik matched him for it, taking up a lamp and making for the inviting warmth of his bed and Altaïr. Approaching the hearth first, he set his lamp near the brazier and paused to warm his hands.  
  
“Yes, knowing her, it is likely that  _I_  have done something to raise her ire and this is her method of exacting revenge…” Malik grinned wolfishly and Altaïr rolled his eyes, falling back amid the cushions with a long-suffering sigh and only commenting with a rude gesture when Malik continued to laugh.  
  
It was too chilly to strip out in the open so he followed Altaïr’s example. After drawing the curtains which enclosed his sleeping area, he clamored into bed in his tunic and breeches, struggling out of them once he was nestled deep in the comforting warmth. Altaïr grumbled that he was letting the cold in but he ignored the Grand Master’s complaints, tossing his garments out from under the wool blanket. It would warm up much more rapidly inside the heavily curtained area.  
  
The nest-like bed of cushions and blankets was blessedly warm after the chill air of the stone room which persisted even with the brazier alight. Malik nudged himself closer to Altaïr, rolling onto his left side so that he could smooth the palm of his single hand over that firm body from knee to shoulder, lingering over the strong muscle at hip and flank and relishing the shiver of goose-flesh which followed his fingertips across Altaïr’s skin. He molded himself to the man’s backside and trailed his fingers down over the other’s firm chest and abdomen, tracing the crease where Altaïr’s thigh joined his body and nestling even closer when the other shuddered back against him, drawing in a heavy breath. Malik could sense Altaïr’s arousal almost as a force, like the crackle of the wool blankets shifting against each other. His skin smelled of almond oil and his hair, very lightly of rosewater.  
  
The silky heat and charged sensation where their bodies met had Malik’s desire surging and he kissed Altaïr lightly on the shoulder, humming against his skin before tucking his hips in and brushing the man’s tailbone with his hardening sex, smirking as the Grand Master moaned shamelessly, rocking back against him. He slipped his single hand down to stroke just the barest tease of fingertips along Altaïr’s length, finding it already rigid and straining. He palmed it gently, chuckling as Altaïr muffled his cry against a cushion, his hips snapping forward, pressing into Malik’s hand.  
  
Malik clicked his tongue, ‘such  _whoreish_  behavior…’ If the Novices only knew what their Grand Master was like when in bed with his Second; how easily and swiftly the one armed Master could reduce their proud Eagle to a shuddering, writhing, ruin.  
  
“Even after these many years, I do not take it for granted that I am allowed still, to have you so  _frequently_ …” Malik made small teasing circles with his agile thumb until Altaïr cursed and writhed his hips, trying to get Malik to stroke him more firmly.  
  
“Ahh- You know she understands w-what we are to one another… and why…” Altaïr panted lightly as Malik had mercy on him and resumed stroking at a languid pace. “She does not begrudge us our time together…”  
  
“Still, I question her motives for sending you to  _me_  for  _rest_ …” Malik ground himself against the base of Altaïr’s spine, moaning appreciatively as the Grand Master shuddered again, his breath hissing out through his teeth as Malik gripped his length in that single hand; calloused and strong from fifteen years of pulling double duty. Malik still fought and scaled buildings with that one hand; that single, mighty arm. “Unless of course the intent is that I wear you out.. so that you do not return to the study but instead, sleep..?”  
  
Altaïr nodded in agreement. “If you could arrange that it be dreamless as well I would be very appreciative…” Malik chuckled at the smirk in the other’s voice but the sultry edge it also contained sent a pleasant shiver over his body, quite unlike the tooth chattering chill he had experienced in the cold air of his room. This was a hot tingle across his skin which raised the hair all over his body, accompanied by an involuntary tightening of the muscles in his abdomen and inner thighs and groin. He wanted Altaïr. He had  _always_  wanted Altaïr.  
  
Wrapped possessively around the man, Malik stroked him firmly a few more times to make him tense and groan before regretfully pushing away and urging Altaïr to roll onto his back. It was getting warm within the curtained sleeping area and soon they pushed the heavy blankets off to the sides and settled, Altaïr on his back with Malik between his thighs, the Grand Master shamelessly spread for him, reclining lazily on Malik’s bed cushions with one arm folded back beneath his head and the other hand taking up where Malik had left off. His half lidded eyes glittered molten-gold in the dim light of the hanging oil lamps.  
  
And as Malik gazed upon his oldest friend he could not help but to lean down and kiss him. Their mouths pressed softly at first and then more insistently as Malik sucked Altaïr’s lower lip in, tonguing over the small ridge of his scar. Altaïr’s hand came away from stroking himself to gently cup Malik’s cheek and card fingers through his short hair and Malik relaxed against the Grand Master’s strong chest, propped up on his single arm as they opened one another with tender, exploratory caresses of lips and tongue, with eyes closed or fluttering or half open and locked together in something like adoration. Pressed tight between their bodies, they slid past and against each other as they rolled their hips in cadence to their melody of gasps and groans and quick breaths.  
  
Altaïr had not directly asked to be taken but he had implied well enough, so Malik did not seek permission, although he hummed an apology when he broke their kiss, pushing himself up and casting about beneath the cushions for the phial of almond oil he kept nearby. However, Altaïr soon drew his attention with a bird-like whistle and when Malik glanced at him, he was of course twirling the very item Malik sought, between his nimble fingers. He tossed the phial and Malik caught it deftly, again matching smirks with his long-time lover.  
  
“I found that already…” He supplied unnecessarily, grinning as Malik rolled his eyes.  
  
“Spread your legs  _Grand Master Altaïr_.” Malik tried to growl; tried to force the smile off his face but ended up giving in to laughter. However, Altaïr just lowered his eyelids and gave him a smoldering look, sliding his hands purposefully down the length of his muscular torso and around his firm inner thighs, pulling them almost roughly apart. Malik’s mouth fell open and he was no longer laughing. Altaïr continued to play the whore, gazing up at him through lowered eyelashes and chewing his own lip, palming himself to his flat belly and rolling his hips in the most brazenly lascivious manner.  
  
Malik cursed, hurriedly uncorking the phial.  
  
He spilled sweet smelling oil into his palm by upending the tiny bottle with his dexterous fingers, keeping the cork between his teeth and cupping the fluid in his hand as he jammed the narrow vessel back onto its stopper and then spat it off to the side, refocusing his attention on the form spread out before him and  _pointedly_  ignoring Altaïr’s victorious smirk. The other knew very well how he affected Malik with his smoky, golden eyes and the utterly  _shameless_  manner he adopted when alone with the one armed Master. It was years they had been doing this and the same feeling still gripped Malik when Altaïr would gaze at him like that; an overwhelming, almost  _embarrassing_  feeling of being wanted; of being desired. It  _still_  colored his cheeks and made him cast his eyes down… that anyone could look upon him and lust for him so openly…  
  
It did not bother Malik that Altaïr also shared those eyes with Maria. He didn’t feel he had any right to claim a man,  _especially_  Altaïr. In their society it was the way of men and women to pair and wed and produce children to populate the world after they were gone from it. Malik felt that he too should eventually father a child, before he became too old to play with and teach one… But it was not as if he lay with Altaïr purely for physical pleasure. He could not deny that he loved the man deeply and completely, as he knew he was loved in return. Would that any woman he might someday wed be as understanding of their unique bond as Maria was…  
  
Altaïr opened to him with practiced ease, accepting Malik’s oiled fingers with an erotic arch of his spine and a slow breath exhaled through his nose, digging both heels and shoulders into the cushions as Malik pressed in and up gently to spread the oil inside, stroking the delicate parts of him with possibly more tenderness than Altaïr might have wanted, seeing how he twisted, attempting to get more of Malik’s hand inside him and groaning in frustration when he received no relief from the one armed Master who continued to just lightly tease him for a few more moments in the name of good natured spite.  
  
One of Altaïr’s hands had managed to again locate the oil and Malik shuddered pleasantly, moaning in appreciation as slippery fingers began to encircle and rub and stroke him. Malik did not need to ask if Altaïr was ready for him. The Grand Master’s body was a very well trained machine, it did as Altaïr bid and Malik did not doubt that he could have taken the man at really any point. He curled his fingers to apply pressure to an especially sensitive area, smirking when Altaïr arched up with a broken cry, his oiled fingers leaving Malik’s ready flesh and curling about his own as it flexed against his lower belly and left a shiny smear on his skin. He milked a thick stream of slippery fluid from himself and pulled Malik close, trapping them both in one slick hand while drawing him down for a kiss with the other and as their lips slid sensually together and their eyes drifted closed, Malik withdrew his fingers, making an inarticulate noise of want and Altaïr smiled against his lips, shifting to guide him down and under and in.  
  
It did not matter what position they might take, making love to Altaïr was a full body experience of wet mouths and humid breath against lips or jaw or neck; erotic sounds that neither of them made any effort to restrain, so intensely honest they made Malik ache even as he was overcome with pleasure.  
  
Slick heat was suddenly gripping him so snugly that right away it was very nearly too much. Their bodies slid together seamlessly and when they were flush against each other it sparked a toe curling tingle over Malik’s skin, like being outdoors in a lightning storm. Those liquid golden eyes blazed at him with desire and reverence until Malik jerked his hips and they slammed shut and Altaïr’s lips parted with a soft ‘ _ah_ ’ which was more a breath than a sound. Malik crushed their mouths back together and rolled his hips, unable to restrain himself any longer, moaning into Altaïr’s mouth as the man shuddered beneath him, wrapping arms about his shoulders, thighs reflexively falling even further apart.  
  
After a moment their frantic kiss trailed off to nips along the jaw and then on to rough panting as Altaïr’s head fell back amid the cushions, his face flushed and his eyes closed, his scarred lips parted and glistening and Malik slumped forward, forehead pressed against Altaïr’s chest, rocking gently, shallowly,  _maddeningly_ , building an aching, tense pleasure up in both of them until Altaïr thrashed and trembled, digging his nine fingertips sharply into Malik’s shoulders; until his merciless teasing of the other had his own thighs and belly feeling tight and strained, then smoothly sliding in to the hilt so as to properly savor the strangled, shattered moan the Grand Master would produce; the way his body would arch and tighten; how his swollen manhood would flex against his tense belly.  
  
But after just a few repetitions of this, Malik found himself a little too caught up in his own enjoyment of Altaïr’s exquisite body and fell to simply rolling his hips in tiny, tight circles, buried as deeply in that welcoming heat as he could get.  
  
When Altaïr groaned desperately;  _pleadingly_  and shifted beneath him, Malik pushed himself up on his trembling arm, moving with the man and straddling his thigh when he rolled onto his side, making a special effort to remain inside him through the adjustment. When they were again situated, Altaïr hooked his knee over Malik’s left shoulder, secure in the crook created by what remained of his arm and Malik pushed in again, leaning into the support the strong limb provided to both thrust deeply and since he no longer needed to hold himself up, to also slide his remaining hand down that long quivering expanse of muscular thigh to grip Altaïr’s sex.  
  
The Grand Master had buried his face in his arms when Malik began to stroke him but could still be heard clearly, his gasping and keening and cursing growing louder and more urgent as his body became tense and still and he twitched and tightened around Malik’s length, his spine locked in a hard arch with his teeth clenched for what seemed like an eternity before finally shuddering violently beneath him, hips jerking shallowly. He spilled over Malik’s fingers and the cushion beneath him, raising his head from the cradle of his crossed arms to turn his amber gaze back on Malik as he finished; panting and flushed; mouth half open and eyes half closed and looking  _so thoroughly debauched_  as he continued to roll his hips, squeezing Malik inside him. And that look; those  _eyes_ ; both satiated and ravenous at once. It was all Malik needed, the pleasure of Altaïr around him and the even greater pleasure of seeing; of  _knowing_  he had pleased his lover.  
  
Malik’s dark eyes were locked with Altaïr’s when he reached his own climax with a soft grunt and sharp oath, a brief clench of all his core muscles and a protracted period of pulsing ecstasy. His hand left the other’s softening manhood to hug that firm thigh to his chest as he bore down, rushing out within all that blissful clenching heat, raptly watching Altaïr’s eyelashes flutter on his cheeks and his breath draw in sharply as he felt Malik swell and jerk inside him. Malik rode it out, enjoying the buzzing warmth which suffused his body as the trembling subsided. After a few moments Malik let Altaïr’s knee slide off his shoulder and pulled himself very gently free, allowing the man to stretch his limbs and settle more comfortably in the cushions. Altaïr beckoned him with his luminous eyes and a lopsided smile and Malik fell onto the cushions beside him, humming in satisfaction.  
  
Together they wrestled some of the wool blankets back over their nude bodies, tangling their limbs together in comfortable chaos beneath the bedding and Malik relaxed, yawning hugely and then chuckling when Altaïr caught sight of it and also yawned. He leaned up and kissed the man suddenly, just pressing lips to lips, feeling his silent gesture of love and loyalty returned with sincerity before settling back with a contented sigh.  
  
They used to meet each other in secret, mostly during the day, in store rooms and remote deserted towers, in hay piles and far afield where they would hitch their horses and light a fire and spend a few hours in each other’s embrace where they were more certain they would not be seen. They still did sometimes but these days it was much more common for them to meet like this, in the comfort of Malik’s bed-chamber, between first and second sleep.  
  
It pleased Malik that often Altaïr would stay and sleep beside him once they had finished their lovemaking, his breathing quiet and peaceful until dawn when he would rise dutifully to stoke the embers in the brazier to life and get the kettle going before he slipped away to bathe and dress and greet Maria and his boys. It seemed as though he would stay this night as Maria had urged… Malik knew Altaïr had been spending too much time in solitary study. It was not good for him and the one armed Master resolved to distract him from it more often.  
  
Malik blinked sleepily. The last oil lamp was just about to gutter out and he watched it flicker in silent reflection as Altaïr shifted against him, putting strong arms around him and kissing his forehead as he drifted off into slumber.  
  
Their past might have held deep pain and loss and the very future was always uncertain but right now he was happy and warm under the disheveled bedding, safe and comfortable in Altaïr's arms. Right now he could lay his head on Altaïr's shoulder and close his eyes.  
  
Right now he could rest.  
  
 **~end~**


End file.
